With The Will Of Never Giving Up
by Mistress Reigns
Summary: John is struggling to deal with the reality of a relationship with the one person no one expected him to develop feelings for. Or are they feelings? He has no idea. All he knows is that he's tired of the locker room making comments that are slowly beginning to seep into his mind and drive him away.


Sometimes, John honestly forgets how strange it is. Usually early in the morning before he finds the nearest gym in the city they happen to be in and drags himself inside to work out for an hour or two. It's a daily ritual needed to keep his body in top shape, something he makes sure to take into account considering he's in the ring nearly every night because of this little feud.

This feud that happens to have given him the greatest thing he's had in a very long time. Yeah, okay, maybe it's hard to forget how weird it is just because he can't really catch sight of his opponent in the ring and his... Lover? Outside of the ring without thinking about how strange it is. Enemies have long fell into bed together. It's almost a tradition, really. Look at the Shield.

He glances across the gym to where Randy is spotting Dean Ambrose while Hunter coaches Seth Rollins on the treadmill. A mildly amused Roman Reigns is looking back and forth, doing reps with weights bigger than the ones John uses. How this little thing managed to happen should be just as weird as what's happened with him, but no one seems the least bit surprised that Hunter and Randy ended up rolling the Hounds of Justice into the sheets with them. Maybe it has something to do with Hunter being a pretty big man whore and Randy going along with it.

Still, no one ever talks about them behind their backs or when nobody thinks any of them are listening. To be fair, John isn't listening most of the time just because he knows better than to listen to locker room bullshit, but apparently Sister Abigail is _always_ listening. Or at least, this is what Bray informs him of each night when it's rather inappropriate to bring her up.

Bray Wyatt. John sighs and sits up, moving the metal pin further down the stack of weights so every bench press strains his muscles just a little bit more. Thinking about Bray is always a double-edged sword. The guy is flat out _weird_ in a way that isn't adorable or even tolerable half of the time, but John can't seem to get away from him no matter how many times he tells himself he needs to do just that. He can't escape him in the ring because of their feud, and outside of the ring, he's quickly losing the will to even bother trying to escape. That's a bad sign, right?

"You've got that look on your face that says you're thinking too much, fella," a familiar voice says, startling John badly enough he lets go of the hand grips and the weights slam into place.

There's an awkward silence as the noise echoes through the room before a few guys pick up on what happened and laugh, which just makes John scowl and sit up. Sheamus cocks an eyebrow at him from where he's standing beside the machine, arms crossed over his chest. It's weird seeing him in a black t-shirt because John honestly didn't think he could get paler.

"You," John declares, pointing a finger at the Irishman, "are an ass and I hate you."

Sheamus scoffs and pulls up a metal folding chair to sit down. "As if. What are you thinking of?"

"Just... I'm sure you know what I'm thinking of. The entire locker room has been talking about it since it got out backstage, so..." He trails off, watching Sheamus furrow ginger eyebrows before understanding dawns in his eyes. Right then, so he's on track. "Just that it's weird, right? And everyone thinks it's weird and they think I'm crazy or something for being into it. But I mean, I keep telling myself that it needs to stop but I can't actually go through with making it stop."

"Ah. You're talking about Bray Wyatt." Sheamus nods knowingly, and John just gives him a deadpan because _duh._ What else would have him acting strangely anyway?

He sighs, braces his elbows on his knees. "Do you think it's weird? Me and him?"

"Do _I?_" Sheamus shakes his head. "I've seen odder things, fella. This is run of the mill normal."

Well at least _someone_ doesn't think he's mentally impaired for messing around with Bray on a regular basis. Granted, Sheamus isn't exactly what the other guys would call normal, not when he'd shown up in the locker room with strange red marks running down the length of his back—whip marks, John later found out—but it was nice to have someone not thinking something was wrong with him. He's having a hard enough time dealing with the ribbing as it is.

"But you think it's weird or you wouldn't be worried about it," Sheamus adds, and John scowls at him because _yeah,_ he thinks it's weird but he doesn't want to think it's weird.

He doesn't want to think it's weird because it doesn't seem fair to Bray to think it's weird. This is their... Relationship... And John feels like he's betraying Bray by not being totally okay with everything and not having a single problem with all of the shit being said about them behind their backs. He feels like a flake, and he knows how hard it is to deal with someone who has issues with the relationship because they start to distance themselves. Distancing himself might be a better idea, considering, but he doesn't want to and he thinks he might end up doing it.

How much of a dick would that make him, though? He walks out there with his motivational talk about never giving up and he might just end up giving up because he has no idea how he feels about this. No emotion is becoming concrete enough for him to properly manage it. If he was upset and truly wanted out, he could bolt without feeling bad about it. But at least some part of his heart must be in this because leaving makes him sick to his stomach. He doesn't want to leave Bray behind, which is probably going to cause him trouble later down the line.

"I think so? I don't even know how I feel about it. Not really. I just know I don't really want it to end." John shrugs half-heartedly and grasps the hand grips once again.

"Aye, I know what you mean now. You're too busy listening to everyone else to figure out how you feel about what you two have going on. And I'll bet you haven't talked to him about it once." Sheamus shakes his head, as if that should be obvious, and John scowls at him because does he even have any idea how hard it is to— "And I understand that talking to Bray is difficult because wading through the cryptic lines is hard, but you have to do it."

Apparently he does know how hard it is to talk to Bray. "It's not that I don't want to do it. It's just that... I have no idea how to put it into words that I don't know how I feel about this."

Sheamus shrugs again and leans back in his seat, running a hand through his fiery orange hair. "You don't really have a choice is the way I see it. Either you actually sit down and talk to him about it, or you're going to panic and back out of things. And last I checked, you don't really tend to give up even when you should because you're just being stupid."

He's right and John hates him just a little bit more because he just happens to be _so_ right. He has to talk to Bray. One way or another, he's going to have to sort through all the nonsense that comes out of the bigger man's mouth to figure out if a single thing he's going to have to say actually gets through. Which probably means enduring more talking about Sister Abigail, and if she seriously is watching him like Bray says she is, John's paranoia is going to ramp up.

"At least you're dating the scariest lad on the roster," Sheamus adds after a moment, and John fixes him with a glare because what the fuck is that supposed to mean, exactly? Besides, Bray isn't that scary once you sit down and talk to him. Or, you know, fuck him. "I'm just saying. You have nothing to really be afraid of. He actually _likes_ you. Everyone else is terrified of him."

"For God's sake, _you_ are bigger than he is and people are afraid of _him?_" John starts bench pressing again, aware he's doing it a lot jerkier and faster than is actually helpful.

Sheamus clicks his tongue at John and shakes his head. "Wade and Drew are both bigger, too. Doesn't change the fact that your lad walks about talking about burning down the entire world and can somehow bend himself over backwards and _walk_ like that. He's disturbing."

"He is basically just a giant fucking teddy bear with a slightly twisted outlook on the world and much odder flexibility." John hears the snort and locks his arms into place so he doesn't slip and let the weights clang together again, glaring at the Irishman. "If you even _think_ about turning that into a sex joke, I am going to kill you right here, right now, where everyone can watch."

"I would honestly like to see you try that," another all-too-familiar voice purred, and Marta appeared over Sheamus's shoulder, resting her hand on the back of his neck.

John narrows his eyes up at her. "You would kill me before I got in a decent shot."

"Damn right I would. Don't touch what's mine." She drops a kiss on Sheamus's cheek before turning her gaze back to him. "Are you still whining about your little affair with Bray Wyatt?"

"It is not whining if it's a legitimate problem that's going to actually take time and thought to work through, thank you very much." He gestures vaguely at her and Sheamus, his other arm quivering hard at suddenly being forced to hold the entire weight, so he quickly finds the other hand grip. "It wasn't so easy as, _wow, the sex is good. Let's make this a regular thing._"

Marta rolls her eyes before stepping around Sheamus to stand in front of him. "Your motto is?"

"Never give up," he recites obediently, letting the weight come back down slowly before sitting up. Not that it puts them on a level; she's still standing and he's still sitting, but still. "But it's not as easy as that so don't give me that. If it was that easy, then—"

"It's easier than that. If you actually believe in not giving up, then you won't. No matter _what_ anyone else says." Her gaze hardens. So she's heard the shit too?

He starts to argue again, snapping his jaw shut when she glares at him pointedly. "All right. Fine. I'll talk to him about it and in the meantime, I won't... Give up. Or whatever."

"Good boy." Marta steps back, dropping her hand on Sheamus's shoulder. "Come on, love. Let's let John work through his thoughts for a bit longer. He needs to puzzle out what he's to say."

He watches the two of them leave with more than a little envy; they have it easy. But they make it work by working together to ensure it does while he has done nothing but make this hard. Surely Bray's not appreciating that. Well, that's just fine because he'll take Marta's challenge. _Never give up._ He's lived by it so far. Maybe he can live by it for just a little bit longer.


End file.
